


The Hunger Songfic Challenge 4: The Kills - The Heart is a Beating Drum

by BellaFuckingRockwell



Series: Bella's 10 Songfics for 10 Songs Challenge [4]
Category: David Bowie (Musician), The Hunger (TV 1997)
Genre: BDSM, Belts, Bondage, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Knives, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaFuckingRockwell/pseuds/BellaFuckingRockwell
Summary: I've done an old exercise that used to rattle around the LiveJournal fic communities. The exercise is that you put your music library on shuffle and you write a fic in a certain fandom based on the first 10 songs that come up. They're usually meant to be drabbles, but I personally don't do drabbles bc I'm a verbose mf so they're just a bunch of short fics instead. My chosen fandom is The Hunger TV show and pairing throughout is Julian/Drew. They're loosely linked but aren't meant to be linear. I've also been pretty liberal with some of them in terms of how much they're actually based on the song!As it's The Hunger, the themes throughout are pretty fucking dark and potentially triggering in places. I'll post separate warnings for each one, but as a rule they're pretty much all NSFW for violence and/or smut (varying degrees of graphic). 18+ only, should go without saying.DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing. The characters and settings do not belong to me. I’m a little fish in a big pond trying to amuse myself.Song 4: The Kills - The Heart is a Beating DrumSynopsis: It takes more, every time, to get them there.





	The Hunger Songfic Challenge 4: The Kills - The Heart is a Beating Drum

It takes more, every time, to get them there. That rush. That high. That.... feeling, the one that really keeps them coming back to each other.  
In the beginning, a firm grip on Drew's throat, a slap to her face, would be all it took to turn her to plasticine in Julian's cruel fingers. A silent canvas. Ready to submit to whatever arbitrary punishment he wanted to give, any sick sexual game he wanted to play.  
Now, though, she fights back. Tries to wriggle out of his grasp; maybe bites him, or slaps him back, until he roars and wrestles her to the ground with every ounce of strength he has. He'll pin her down with a knee on her chest until she can't breathe, her ribs bound to crack, until she stops flailing; maybe she'll spit in his face, as he leers over her. He'll just laugh before shoving two fingers in her mouth, and the wild look in his eyes might just be enough to stop her from biting him.  
“Oh, you'll regret that, darling,” he'll say. “You will pay...”  
And she will. She could end up strapped to a gurney in the infirmary, whimpering and struggling fruitlessly in her restraints as Julian mauls her entire body with his tongue, his hands, his teeth. If he feels like it, he brings out his surgical tools. He runs scalpels, knives, things she doesn't even know the names of, over her chest, her thighs, her belly, always a half millimetre above the skin. His gaze will bore into hers as she whimpers and forces herself to remain motionless, knowing the slightest twitch would result in contact with the blades... it's fucking dizzying, the fear, the kind of euphoria she never tasted before him, even in the darkest sex clubs with the most notorious tops. Sometimes Drew cums the moment he touches her, and Julian will merely smirk; maybe he'll exit the room for a while afterwards, leaving her there to grow cold and hysterical for what could be hours or mere minutes, before returning, naked, iron hard, lowering the gurney so he can guide his cock into her mouth. She hates the way it always feels like a reward, a treat; how his growling moan as he cums in her throat is warped, heavenly music.  
On other occasions, Julian might drag her down the hallway to one of the cells, and she might fight him, try to get away, until he sighs and makes a tight fist in her hair, forcing her to follow him with the knowledge that he's not afraid to rip it clean from her scalp. Once inside, Drew will regain some of her defiance, glaring at him as the barred door closes, slams, locks behind them. Julian will waste no time in ordering her to strip as he pulls off his belt, and if Drew refuses to comply then perhaps he'll rip off her clothes himself, destroying them as he goes. Either way, the belt will lash and crack, merciless, until Julian is panting, frenzied, and Drew is wailing and begging and writhing, her arse and thighs covered in great red welts, her mouth dry, her vision swimming. Then, exhausted, Julian might grab her by the neck and take her against the wall where she stands, calling her a pitiful little whore, and chances are she'll be too broken to argue.  
Other times, he might bend her over the cell's small table, so she can see herself in the grimy mirror on the wall. See him too, leering over her, his lips twisting in pleasure as he moves within her. He'll feel so damn good, filling her, fucking her, and she won't want to moan for him as loudly as does but she can never help it. Perhaps she'll feel a bit sick at the sight of their injuries, a bruise on Julian's cheek from a struggle a few days prior, a healing cut on his lower lip. She might gasp as she sees the purple-red rings across her neck and clavicle from his teeth, bruises on her wrists from struggling in various restraints. She'll feel relieved that she can't see the back of herself.  
And then Julian might grip the back of her head, forcing her to keep on staring in the mirror. “Look at you.” His voice will be baritone, primal, snarling. “Look how much you're getting off on this.”  
“Look at yourself,” she'll snap back, perhaps, if she's feeling brave.  
Julian might slam her head forward in response, and she'll flinch, bracing herself, but he'll stop before her face actually collides with the table. “Shut the fuck up.” She might curse as he yanks her upright again. “Now look at your reflection, and see what you've become.”  
Then maybe Drew will have a moment of clarity, amidst the glorious fog they've worked themselves into. Some voice, distant and quiet in the back of her mind, will whisper, you two are going to fucking kill each other.  
So she might fight the orgasm building within her as she gasps, “this is going too far, Julian.”  
“Is it really?” he'll respond, in a mocking tone that makes her crumble.  
She probably won't notice the syringe until it's too late, jabbed against a vein in her neck, and she'll start to tremble and wonder how the fuck he got this past her, how he always does this, like a sociopathic magician. She might shy away, breathing hard, but Julian will hold her still as he says, “careful, now. I don't want to hit an important artery.”  
And Drew will stiffen, closing her eyes, helpless as the needle penetrates her skin.  
“It's not going too far, love.” Julian will be grinning, as Drew's eyes get weighty, her arms giving way beneath her. “It's just starting to get interesting.”


End file.
